Page 10 of Sanctuary and Spices (Tales of the Ardent Veil #1)

RONHAR

T he market’s bins and baskets bumped against my legs as we made our way through the station’s corridors. The artificial morning cycle cast long shadows between the support struts, painting shifting patterns across the metal walls. I found myself watching the way Jani navigated the space—her movements fluid, efficient, as if the station had already started to adapt to her presence.

“That vendor with the crystalline mushrooms,” she said, shifting her load of supplies. “The way she handled them—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Ulthari have specialized sensitivity to crystal resonance,” I said, adjusting my grip on the more delicate ingredients. “Makes them excellent judges of quality.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to buy from her? The restricted zones?”

My lips twitched despite myself. “Smart observation. But no. Their permits are legitimate. I just prefer working with vendors I know personally.”

“Like Mai?” She glanced at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “She certainly knew you well enough to tease.”

I grunted, not wanting to examine why that smile made my chest tighten. “Mai’s reliable. Good product, fair prices, doesn’t ask unnecessary questions.”

“Unlike me?”

“Your questions are...” I hesitated, searching for the right word. “Relevant.”

Her laugh caught me off guard—warm and genuine, nothing like the careful professionalism she’d shown in the market. It stirred something in me, a quiet pull I hadn’t felt in years. “That might be the nicest way anyone’s ever told me I’m nosy.”

“Not nosy. Observant,” I corrected.

The Flo-Lift hummed quietly as it dropped us at the café’s service entrance. Jani balanced three bags of produce with the practiced grace of someone used to navigating tight spaces. She stepped around equipment without breaking stride, her movements seamless.

“Mint needs replanting immediately,” I said, mentally cataloging the haul. “The crystal formations are unstable.”

“And these need prep,” she replied, shifting her load. “Soryn will want the dried mushrooms for tomorrow’s special.”

Her focus impressed me—practical, calm, already thinking ahead. But it was more than that. She moved as though this place, this rhythm, already belonged to her.

We reached the café’s service entrance just as a group of Krythari emerged from the main doors. Their chitin-like exoskeletons refracted the light into delicate rainbows that danced across the walls. I recognized Mai’s cousin among them, her faceted eyes bright with excitement.

“Perfect timing!” Soryn called from inside as we returned with the last of the supplies. His prosthetic arm whirred faintly as he waved us toward the café. “We were just discussing the festival.”

“Festival?” Jani set down her bags carefully, curiosity sparking in her tone.

“The annual Krythari Light Festival,” one of the organizers explained, their four hands weaving intricate gestures as they spoke. “A celebration of the connection between light and growth.”

Another voice piped up, high-pitched and full of enthusiasm: “It’s amazing! Last year, they had crystal formations that responded to emotional resonance, and before that there was this huge display of bioluminescent?—”

“Pix?” Jani blinked at the small figure bouncing near Soryn’s prep station. “How did you get here before us?”

“Oh! You two know each other?” Soryn’s scales rippled with faint amusement.

“We’re neighbors,” Jani said, her posture relaxing slightly.

I filed that information away, noting how Pix’s presence seemed to ease some of the tension in Jani’s shoulders. Interesting.

“As I was saying,” the Krythari organizer continued, “we would be honored to have the Wanderer’s Rest as a featured vendor this year. Especially with your new chef’s reputation for innovative flavor combinations.”

I saw Jani stiffen beside me. Her fingers twisted in her apron—when had she put that on? I remembered the news reports about her confrontation at the Crown. Too much pressure, too soon?

“The festival square is directly adjacent to your café,” another organizer added, their faceted eyes catching the light. “We’d like to incorporate your garden as part of the experience—a natural backdrop for the celebration.”

My markings flared faintly. “The garden isn’t just decorative. The plants are sensitive, and too much disruption could affect their growth patterns.”

“Of course,” the Krythari said quickly, their antennae twitching. “We wouldn’t want to harm anything. We were thinking of setting up small tasting booths around the edges—nothing invasive. Guests could enjoy the garden’s beauty without disturbing it.”

Pix bounced higher. “And wait until you see what I’ve designed for the display! Glowing pathways leading through the square and up to the café! It’ll look amazing, and the Jhyra can do their thing without anyone touching them?—”

“No explosions,” Soryn and I said in unison.

“Minimal explosions,” Pix amended. “But think of the possibilities! The garden, Jani’s food, my innovations?—”

“Everyone calm down.” Soryn stepped forward, his prosthetic arm hissing as he adjusted its position. “Let’s discuss this properly.”

I glanced toward Jani. Her fingers twisted tighter in her apron as her gaze darted between the organizers. I could see the wheels turning in her mind as she calculated portions, schedules, logistics. Beneath the mask, doubt flickered, but so did determination.

“What would this entail?” she asked, her tone steady despite the tension in her posture.

The organizers launched into rapid explanations. “We’d like your café to supply featured dishes, inspired by the festival theme—Living Light. Think bioluminescent herbs, crystal-inspired plating, connections between flavor and energy. We’d also love to showcase your garden as a central feature. Guests can explore the square, but the Wanderer’s Rest will be the heart of the celebration.”

My protective instincts flared again, but I kept my voice calm. “You’ll need to respect the garden’s boundaries. That means no tampering with the plants, no heavy equipment near the root systems, and absolutely no unauthorized modifications.”

“Understood,” the Krythari said, nodding eagerly. “We’ll make sure everything is designed to work with the garden, not against it. Think of it as an extension of the café’s atmosphere.”

Jani’s posture relaxed slightly, though her fingers still gripped the edge of her apron. “How many people are we talking about?”

“Thousands,” the lead organizer replied. “Multiple species from across the station. We hope this cycle’s festival will be bigger, better than ever.”

“And it’s in a month?” Jani asked, her voice steady but edged with calculation.

“Yes,” the organizer confirmed. “That should give you plenty of time to prepare.”

Jani’s lips pressed into a thin line as she ran calculations in her head. “And we’d be providing food for the event? Drinks, too?”

“As much or as little as you’d like,” the Krythari said. “We can work with other vendors for additional support, but your café would be the centerpiece. Guests will naturally gravitate toward the Wanderer’s Rest.”

I could see the weight of the decision settling on her shoulders. The plants nearest her shifted faintly, their leaves trembling in sync with her breathing. The Jhyra pulsed softly, their glow insistent.

“Jani,” Soryn said gently, his tone softer than usual. “What do you think? It’s a big opportunity, but no pressure. We can always wait until next year.”

Her chin lifted slightly, the doubt in her eyes replaced by a spark of determination. “What exactly would you need from us to make this work?”

The organizers launched into detailed logistics—placement of the tasting booths, how the garden pathways would connect to the festival square, the timeline for setup. Jani asked sharp, precise questions, her instincts kicking into gear.

I stayed quiet, watching her confidence grow with each passing minute. She wanted this challenge—I could see it in the way her fingers twitched, already reaching for ideas. But I also remembered the doubt, the way she’d twisted her apron moments before.

“Could we really do this?” she asked finally, her eyes meeting mine across the prep station.

Something about the way she looked at me—open, vulnerable, hopeful—made my chest tighten.

“If anyone can, you can,” I said quietly. “We’ll make it work.”